Heal my wounds
by kashi333
Summary: Elizabeth is having nightmares and finds herself unable to open herself up to Tom. Who can she trust to confide in and heal her? Takes place after "The Stewmaker"
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or any of the characters

Authors note: Pairing will be Red/Lizzie, my first fanfic so be kind. Reviews and advice appreciated.

Shadows, that's all she could see. Endless darkness lay out before her, no sense of walls or surroundings, like a sinister abyss consuming her. She tried to call out but she couldn't breathe, she could taste the tang of cotton in her mouth, each attempt at inhaling felt like she was sucking in black fabric, a stench filled her nostrils, chemicals that stung her eyes and burned her throat as bile rose from her stomach, adding to the fiery sensation.

Her eyes snapped open as she catapulted herself forward, sitting up in bed and covering her mouth with her hand, swallowing the bile in her mouth and gasping for air. Her eyes blinked rapidly, chest heaving with each intake of air. She felt tear stains streaking her face as she pushed the covers off of her lower half and quickly but quietly made her way to the restroom.

This was the fourth time this week she had woken from a deep sleep, terrified and coated in sweat. She thanked whatever powers it may be that made Tom a deep sleeper. He would console her if she woke him up, this she knew. But he would never understand, never know what she went through in those woods, and she would never be able to tell him everything. She stood at the bathroom sink, staring at her reflection. Her hair, matted, wild, and damp, clung to her face, and her normally vivid eyes seemed dull, matching the dark circles that had started to form underneath them. She cursed and turned on the water, splashing her face with cold water to wake her up and wash away the remaining veil of the nightmare. Drying her face and hands she threw the towel at the sink and exited the bathroom. Grabbing her robe and slipping it on, she silently headed down stairs, seeing as she could never fully sleep after having a bad dream.

Making her way down the stairs and into the kitchen she flipped on a light switch and decided to make some tea to calm her nerves. She bustled around the kitchen but remaining careful to not wake up Tom, as she thought to her dreams. She knew they were from being taken and tortured by the Stew Maker, she knew it was perfectly normal for a victim to have nightmares, and she knew soon they would pass. Yet she felt so alone in this struggle, she no longer completely trusted Tom, and anyone in the FBI would be a terrible idea to talk to. She knew they were suspicious by her behavior in trying to get more clues to the box that set underneath her dining room floor. In reality the only one who could really appreciate her dilemma would be Reddington, he was there after all.

That thought made her stop midway in pouring hot water in her tea cup. Reddington. He had been there yes, but he had also killed the Stew Maker.

_"How can you live with that?"_  
_"By saving your life."_

Did he really feel that way? She put the hot pot back on the stove. He told her she was special, he told her she was all he had. He killed two people already, in a way, killed them for her. He said he would do whatever it took to keep her alive. The things he said made her uncomfortable, and yet in this time of having no one by her side she could trust she slowly started to really think about the things he told her. He held secrets from her. Yes. Had he lied to her? No. Just with held information. He admitted he was a criminal, admitted he was a monster. Admitted he only did things to suit his own needs. He had hidden agendas but yet seemed to be the most honest out of the whole team tracking down the criminals on the Blacklist.

She felt conflicted as her eyes gazed to where the phone set. Would he be awake this late? She glanced at the stove clock which read that it was half past one in the morning. Would he laugh at her if she told him about the dreams? Perhaps chuckle and chide her for being as childish as he sometimes made her feel? She let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and went to the phone, picking it up and taking it into the other room, farthest away from where her voice might carry up the stairs to a sleeping and unaware Tom. She had the number memorized by now as she punched in the keys placed the phone to her ear and waited. As the phone rang she held her breath, knots forming in her stomach. Suddenly she heard the distinct click of someone picking up and a voice laden with sleep whispered in answer.

"Lizzie?"


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: I finally figured out where I'm going with this. Spoilers: I know in episode five Red gives Elizabeth the case file, I will tweak the story and he will still give it to her still just in a different way.

* * *

"Lizzie?" He asked again but this time he was more awake. She felt frozen. What was she to say? Hey I had a nightmare can you come tuck me back in? It was obvious that lack of sleep was clouding her judgment. She shouldn't have called, she should have went back upstairs to Tom and tried to go back to sleep. Reddington would think her foolish for sure and she didn't need a reprimand or pity now.

"Elizabeth." Her full name caught her attention; never had he addressed her by only her full first name. It had always been either Agent Keen or Lizzie.

"Yes, I'm here." She whispered into the phone.

"As much as I always take pleasure in hearing from you and though I consider myself to be more patient with you and except such behavior, you do realize it _is_ two in the morning." She had heard him shift in his bed, no doubt to make sure of the time.

"I know I'm really sorry." Lack of sleep _must_ be affecting her. She had actually just apologized instead of replying with a "who gives a damn" sort of retort. He must have been surprised as well because it was met with silence. She could practically see the puzzled look he would be giving her. She took a deep breath; she might as well tell him and get it over. She really had no excuse to be calling him so late. And she couldn't peg it on that she just wanted to say hello.

"I couldn't sleep, I been having nightmares." Just straight to the point Elizabeth and see what he has to say she thought to herself.

"And you thought to have me share in your lack of sleep?" He chuckled quietly. "I would think you would have woken your husband, and yet you called me. Does he know you're talking to me Lizzie? Is he even awake?"

She gritted her teeth; this was one of the things she hated about Reddington, his knack for humiliating and degrading everyone with his cocky behavior. She knew this was a mistake, but despite every fiber in her being that said to tell him to piss off and hang up the phone she instead continued on anyway.

"Tom is asleep I didn't want to wake him…and he wouldn't understand nor would I be able to even explain, that's classified information." She didn't exactly know why she pointed out that Tom wouldn't understand, she was just giving Reddington more to use against her. But instead of another witty remark he surprised her.

"What did you hope to gain by calling me? Would you like to talk about your nightmares? What are they of?" There was no mocking in his voice, he actually sounded concerned and this simmered down her anger to a more manageable level.

"In my dreams…there's darkness…I can't breathe, I smell the chemicals from in the cabin…" She told herself she was whispering to not wake up Tom, she wouldn't admit that she was nervous voicing out loud what the dreams were, let alone tell them to Reddington. He was silent for a minute before he replied.

"It's common to have nightmares after you went through, however it should put you at ease to remember that the Stew Maker is dead Lizzie, he can't harm you or anyone ever again." She remembered that he was dead; in fact she had sometimes wondered if that didn't fuel her nightmares. "You need a break, perhaps a vacation. Paris is lovely this time of year." It seemed as though every time Reddington would give her a comforting comment he then, almost as if remembering himself, would have to follow-up with a witty retort.

"Tom wants to go to Boston." She blurted it out and immediately wanted to smack herself in the head. She didn't want to talk about Tom and then she went and brought him up in conversation again.

"Then go Lizzie, I'm sure Boston would be just as pleasant." She could hear him rustling again and her mind began to wander to the question: did he wear pajamas or not? Perhaps he slept in silk and satin boxers, giving the quality of his other attire. This made her snort out loud before she realized she had.

"No? You know Elizabeth you could simply tell Tom you will be gone this weekend on a case, and we could go away somewhere, anywhere you want my dear." The very idea seemed to wake him up even more and his voice held a hopeful tone she had never heard from him before. A whole weekend, just her and Reddington? Could she really stand to be in his presence for that long? Not to mention what the FBI would say if they found out she was spending time with him outside of her job. But a small part of her found the idea wonderful, a whole weekend without chasing criminals, without worrying about who exactly she was sharing her bed with. Even the thought of just packing and running away to be anywhere in the world she wanted sent a thrill through her.

Reddington remained silent as she was processing her thoughts; no doubt he knew she was fighting a battle within. Taking a deep breath she concluded she needed this, she needed time to gather her thoughts, and Reddington would keep her safe and happy while she did, most likely also leading her in the right directions. She couldn't go on vacation with Tom to Boston, not when she didn't know the connection to the Angel Station hotel. She couldn't put on a fake smile and pretend everything was alright any longer.

She let out the breath she was holding and spoke into the phone quietly. "When would we leave?"


End file.
